Night of the Skaven
by Korpswoman of Krieg
Summary: A shift on the town watch would soon turn sour for Oskar and Horace, when those rumours of Rat-men became true... Potential to continue on as a full fic, will see how I feel! happy reading to all


Night of the Skaven

Oskar Ralfenstein kept his watch over the town of Seeufer with a grim expression, cradling his crossbow as he sat on the gatehouse ramparts, rain hammering down from above. "By the Emperor, when is my bloody shift ending…" he mutters to himself, starting a patrol up the wall. Grumbling wasn't going to do anything really, except provide some mild catharsis to his misery, so of course he did it anyway. "Nothing ever happens in this part of the bloody Empire anyway… why couldn't I have gotten posted in Marienburg? The Greenskins are always coming down from the bloody mountains..."

Reaching the end of the wall, he steps into the guardhouse and motions for a colleague to start boiling water. "Horace, I need a cup of tea, the cold is getting to my bones." "Right you are Oskar." Horace grabs some water from a pail hanging out the window, and pours it into a cast iron pot over a nearby fire pit, preparing some loose leaves to put in another cast iron pot nearby. "Nothing out there then Oskar?" "Nah, sod all to be honest. Like every bloody night. Can't exactly expect the Skaven to pop out of the ground can you?" Horace turned to him with an arched eyebrow and snorted derisively. "You don't believe that bollocks about rat-men do you?" "Well, yes." Oskar was known as a bit of a strange thinker, talking much about Skaven and the Undead, from his time among the Dwarves as a trader and mercenary. "I've fought the bastard things." "Yeah, and I'm the Elector Count of Ostland." Horace shook his head and laughed, grabbing two tin mugs and setting them on a small table. "You know, it's hard to believe you sometimes. Sure, you've seen greenskins, and hell, I was there when we were stationed in Wurtbad after the last Vampire uprising. But rat-men, really?" Horace snorts again and turns away. "I think they've been sniffing around, I know the stench of them. Like… death… rabies, and a distinct pong of cheese." "Oh sod off, you're taking the piss on the last one." "Yes, I am, but not on the last two. I was in Karak Eight Peaks with some lads from Akendorf when there was a Skaven attack." Oskar shivers, though it could just be from the cold. "Loads of chittering, lots of..." Oskar trails off when he hears a scratching outside the door. "What's that?" Horace doesn't turn around and just chuckles. "You can't prank me like that again, not after last time." "Horace, shut up!" Oskar whisper-shouted, in a nervous tone… very much out of character.

This scratching wasn't anything normal. Guard dogs would sometimes scratch at the door but also whine, cats would mewl and try to jump up through the tiny window gap. This… was intensive. Like someone – or something – was trying to carve through the wood. "Horace, get your crossbow." "What about the tea?" Oskar turns around with angry eyes and whisper-shouts "Forget. The bloody. Tea. Get. Your. Crossbow." Horace simply nods and grabs his crossbow, loading a bolt straight away and crouching behind the table. "You got your sword?" Horace simply nods, and pats his side, his sword sheathed and ready to draw. "Okay… who is that? Behind the door?" Horace calls out, his heart starting to beat faster. "Is that you Adolph? We told you to get back earlier." Oskar shouts to behind the door. No answer. Just more scratching… and to Oskar's well trained ears… some frantic chittering. Oskar turns to Horace, white as a sheet, and mouths "By the comet!" Horace goes white himself, and gets up panicking, and starts to shout frantically for the rest of the guards. "LADS! LADS! QUICK, WE'VE GOT A PROBLEM!" As he sounds out the last word, the door starts to crack, and the chittering becomes louder. "M-M-MAN THINGS HERE!" A red eyed, verminous face pops in through a crack in the door, and that is when Oskar noticed the warm liquid running down his leg, before unconsciously firing a bolt into the head of the rat-thing. Thunder claps across the sky, as the chittering becomes louder, and scurrying is heard on a massive scale. "J-Just like Karak Eight Peaks..." Oskar mutters, before loading another bolt.


End file.
